


questioning the writing on the wall

by scheifsforlife



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Betsey Toews (the dog), Boys In Love, CBA and RTP voting, M/M, Patrick and Jonny have a house they live in together, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25135501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheifsforlife/pseuds/scheifsforlife
Summary: This is his and Jonny’s safe place.  The place where they can curl around each other after a long day of playing “straight as a board” hockey players and just be themselves.  Where they can stop pretending that they’re “just friends” to the rest of the world and do whatever the hell they want.  And what Patrick wants more than anything, is for Jonny to shut up and stop reading whatever tabloids are telling him that he’s washed up and doesn’t deserve the money he’s being paid.Patrick would pay every cent of it out of his own pocket if it meant that Jonny would stay.*In celebration of the NHL and NHLPA agreeing to a Return to Play Plan and Collective Bargaining Agreement*
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Kudos: 72





	questioning the writing on the wall

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I wrote this after finding out about the new CBA and Return to Play plan as a little fluff piece about Jonny and Patrick. Jonny is in fact on the NHLPA Executive Players' Board, who are going to vote about the CBA and RTP plan within the next few days. Thought it would be fun to explore what they would say to each other after the plans are revealed. Please enjoy!
> 
> Title of this fic is from [Youngblood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fMMNrth246k) by Bea Miller.

“What’dya doing?” Patrick says, imitating the kid show that he loves to watch, and Jonny loves to hate.

He climbs into bed behind Jonny, wrapping himself all over Jonny’s back. They don’t do this very often, with Jonny as the little spoon, mostly because Jonny is WAYYY bigger than Patrick, and as much as Patrick hates to admit it, he loves being enveloped by Jonny’s huge thighs, ass, body. Just everything. But Jonny has apparently broken their “no screens in bed rule” to cradle an iPad to his body and was scrunching his face at some long-winded document on it, so Patrick curls an arm over Jonny and shoves his face into the back of Jonny’s neck.

“Baby… what’s wrong?” Patrick asks, pressing a dry kiss under Jonny’s hairline.

“Nothing,” Jonny answers, the tension still clearly showing in his shoulders.

Patrick drags himself up, propping his head on his elbow, and tips Jonny’s head so he can give him the Patrick Kane signature “really?” eyebrow crook. Jonny always gives in and tells him what’s up if he does that, and this time is no different. Patrick hears Jonny give a sigh, like he can’t believe he had fallen for it again, before turning in Patrick’s arms to face him.

“It’s the CBA,” Jonny says, as he flips the iPad towards Patrick, so he can see. “It’s 47 pages.”

Because Jonny’s the Hawks fancy representative for the NHLPA Executive Board, he gets to vote on the CBA and Return to Play plan before Patrick and the rest of the full NHLPA membership. Logically, Jonny actually shouldn’t be showing this to Patrick because the information is technically confidential, but that’s never stopped him before. Jonny knows that Patrick isn’t going to spill the information to any insiders or the tabloids. Jonny knows Patrick, deep and true, and knows that no matter what others may think about it, Jonny would trust Patrick with his life if it came down to it. Jonny just loves Patrick that much.

“Huh,” Patrick says, scrolling through a bunch of legal jargon. “It’s long. Does that mean it’s better for us?”

Jonny’s mouth turns up in a small smile, which Patrick knows in Canadian Hockey Robot (TM) terms means that he’s really pleased with it and that it probably does benefit them.

“Yeah,” Jonny’s voice is reverent as he says it. “It is. Escrow is higher next year, 20%, but by the end of the deal, it’s down to 6%.”

Considering Jonny exposed escrow hardcore during the lockout a few years ago, him talking about it as a good thing is a surprise. The deal must be amazing for Jonny to be looking this happy about a collective bargaining agreement. Especially one that didn’t come as a result of a lockout.

“And,” Jonny continues. “They’re gonna let us play for the Olympics again. Fuck, Patrick, do you even know what that means?”

It means another opportunity for Canada to win another gold. For Patrick to finally get his FIRST gold. To maybe, one day, join Jonny in that weird Triple Gold Club thing. The USA could do it. Win a World Championship and an Olympics before Patrick retires. Easy as pie.

Playing against Jonny though, would NOT be easy as pie. It would be the first time they would be playing against each other since getting together at the end of the 2017 season, when their losses were too great and Patrick was tired of denying that all he ever wants to do is follow Jonny home to Winterpeg and Lake of the Woods.

“Oh,” Patrick says quietly. “We’d be playing against each other. How are we going to handle that?”

Jonny scoffs, but Patrick can tell it’s not a “what do you mean?” kind of scoff. Years of knowing Jonny and being desperately in love with him have taught him better. It’s nervous and shaky, like Jonny doesn’t think that’s going to be an issue at all.

“Peeks,” Jonny says, low, like he doesn’t want to confess whatever he’s going to. “It’s likely I’m not even going to make the team.”

And oh no. Patrick will NOT be tolerating that level of self-deprecation in his bed tonight. He will not allow it. This is his and Jonny’s safe place. The place where they can curl around each other after a long day of playing “straight as a board” hockey players and just be themselves. Where they can stop pretending that they’re “just friends” to the rest of the world and do whatever the hell they want. And what Patrick wants more than anything, is for Jonny to shut up and stop reading whatever tabloids are telling him that he’s washed up and doesn’t deserve the money he’s being paid.

Patrick would pay every cent of it out of his own pocket if it meant that Jonny would stay.

“Shut up,” Patrick demands. “Shut up, shut up. You know that’s not true.”

“C’mon Peeks,” Jonny replies, eyes sad and hands gripping the iPad so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. “Let’s stop pretending here. You know I’m not what I used to be. I’m older now, don’t put up as many goals. I didn’t even put up 20 this year. And Connor and Nate and so many others are so—”

Patrick smashes his lips to Jonny’s because that fucking train of thought shouldn’t even be ten miles near their house, nevertheless here in the inches between them in their bed. Jonny kisses him back with no hesitation, years of practice erasing that moment of confusion between Patrick surprise-kissing him and reciprocation. Patrick can tell it’s not doing much to soothe Jonny’s mind, his lips not opening up the way they usually do when Patrick kisses him. It just encourages Patrick more, and he works his tongue into Jonny’s mouth, licking and licking into all the crevices, trying to calm the insecurity in Jonny. He pushes and pushes, the kisses becoming wet and sloppy as Patrick somehow attempts to convey how good of a captain Jonny is, how great of a player Jonny is, how much Patrick loves Jonny to the very deepest, darkest parts of his heart. Jonny gives it back just as good, his worries shoving their way in an instant onto Patrick’s inner cheek, but washing away just as quickly through Patrick’s affirmations of love and trust.

When Patrick’s sure that Jonny is no longer in the eye of the self-deprecating hurricane he’s put himself in (and when the ever-so-important need to breathe makes itself known), Patrick cups Jonny’s face and pulls them into a romantic (NOT! cheesy) Eskimo kiss. It makes Jonny whimper, a noise Patrick would usually make if they were having sex, which is how Patrick knows that this isn’t just a superficial, on the surface worry. This is cutting Jonny deep, like when this whole quarantine started, and he realized he wasn’t going to be hitting 20 goals again this year. It’s eating away at his soul, the very fabric of his “I’m a good player” mentality being corroded by acid criticisms from some idiots on the beat.

“Listen to me,” Patrick says. “You are a fucking amazing player. You were Canada’s A at the 2014 Olympics and the World Cup. You were better than Crosby in 2010 and 2014, Golden Goal be damned. You consistently put up numbers, and you’re one of the best fucking leaders in the entire league baby. The absolute best. You deserve to be there, even if you’re just grinding out minutes on the fourth line. They need you, and fuck NBCSN, ESPN, or whatever that weird other one is up in Canada if they think they don’t.”

Jonny still looks wary but manages a small smile. He pecks Patrick, once, twice, and even a third time, like he’s savouring the way Patrick tastes. Patrick has no room to judge though, because after it seems like Jonny is done, Patrick pulls him in, again and again and again, wanting more than anything to do just the same. Lick into Jonny’s mouth and taste him and whatever odd health thing he had munched on after dinner.

“Tell me more,” Patrick gasps, drawing himself back after a particularly passionate kiss, because as much Patrick wants nothing more but to have Jonny flip him over and fuck him into the mattress, this is important. “What else is in there?”

“Well,” Jonny says, mouthing a trail of searing kisses down Patrick’s neck, which is NOT helping Patrick’s situation. “They’re taking Phase 3 more seriously. No fist-bumps, tests almost everyday, you know, all that stuff that’s gonna keep us safe.”

“Oh, what’s that you say?” Patrick mocks. “Safety? Where was that when you posted those photos Mr. “I went to Arizona for a brocation without a mask and with a tank top with my dog on it.”

Jonny groans, burying his clear embarrassment in the crook of Patrick’s neck. Patrick laughs, giddy that at least Jonny is loosening up a little bit. And because they’re actually having an important conversation without distracting themselves with the promise of sex.

“Shut up,” Jonny mumbles. “You know that those photos were taken years ago and that I only posted them because Hawks PR wanted me to. And don’t pretend you don’t love Betsey.”

Jonny got custody of Betsey after his messy 2016 breakup, after his ex decided to leave her in Jonny’s care. The little mutt is currently curled up in her dog bed in a corner of their bedroom, sleeping the night away. Betsey still doesn’t like Patrick very much, mainly because she thinks she’s too good for him, and the hatred goes both ways. Patrick has never been a big fan of pets, and Betsey is no exception. He doesn’t walk her in the morning, doesn’t feed her, nothing. He leaves that to Jonny because he swears every time he even gets near her, she tries to bite him. Jonny somehow interprets that as love, which is totally wrong. Just because Betsey sometimes likes to curl up on Patrick’s lap when he’s watching hockey doesn’t mean she hates him any less. It just means that she really likes hockey and decides that Patrick’s lap is the best place to watch it from (which it is, because every part of Patrick is awesome).

“No, I don’t,” Patrick says, face half smushed into Jonny’s hair (Patrick wishes he’d grow it out again because that was such a good look on him). “She’s terrible.

Jonny nods unbelievingly.

“Sure you do baby,” Jonny says, incredulous. “And I don’t like playing hockey.”

Patrick grumbles unhappily but doesn’t fight Jonny on it anymore because he knows Jonny won’t believe him.

“Jerk,” Patrick says, grabbing the forgotten iPad. “Now, are you gonna tell me if I should vote yes to this thing or not?’

Jonny huffs and snatches the iPad away from Patrick. Futilely, Patrick tries to get it back from Jonny (cause he’s not some kid!), but Jonny just rolls over a bit and drapes one of his huge thighs over Patrick’s, trapping him. Patrick thrashes against it because he hates it when Jonny uses his height and weight advantage to do things like this, but it’s no use. Jonny has boxed him in, and when Jonny places the iPad on his nightstand and slings an arm over Patrick, Patrick surrenders easily (because he hates feeling trapped, but loves feeling wrapped in Jonny). He shudders and melts into it, letting himself be cradled into Jonny’s chest, feeling warm, and safe, and at home.

“You can read it,” Jonny says, punctuating each word with a soft kiss to Patrick’s curls. “When everyone else gets to read it. I’ve already shown you too much.”

“That’s cruel baby,” Patrick practically whines into Jonny’s chest, twisting a nipple to see if that will get a reaction from Jonny (spoiler alert, it doesn’t). “You’ve already teased me.”

“I can tease you even more,” Jonny says in his fake seductive voice, slipping a hand past Patrick’s (Jonny’s) old, ratty UND shirt, cupping his dick lightly through Patrick’s boxers

“Noooooo,” Patrick whimpers, shoving Jonny’s hand away from his dick because he actually wants to know about this.

Jonny laughs and pulls his hand away to cup Patrick’s face instead. He smacks a soft kiss to the apple of Patrick’s cheek, an apology.

“Okay baby,” Jonny says. “But I’m still not going to tell you about it. Board’s voting tomorrow and then everyone gets the memo after that. You’ll have it by the time dinner rolls around.”

“But what if I need it now?” Patrick complains. “What if I need it now to make the right decision?”

“Oh baby,” Jonny says, as he moves towards Patrick’s mouth and places the sweetest, little kiss onto Patrick’s lips. “I’ll love you even if you don’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
